March 18, 2003

It All Comes Down

I remember as a child
finding at the beach
now and then among the fragments
of conchs and periwinkles and clams
a rounded red-ocre treasure
that was not shell but stone.

I held in my hand
the heart of a handmade brick
made with straw
buffeted in the rocky streambeds
of spring floods polished smooth
tumbling hundreds of miles
in at least as many years
to rest here at the edge of the ocean.

The old chimneys came down
And I tossed the ragged bricks
into our stream crossing years ago.
We find them now well downstream
after the flood of years and finally
it all comes down to the sea.

Posted by fred1st at March 18, 2003 06:12 AM | TrackBack

That's lovely, Fred :)
What a nice read to start my day! Thank you.

Posted by: deb at March 18, 2003 09:45 AM

Took me back to my childhood too, Fred, thanks for the memories.

Posted by: Alexandra at March 18, 2003 10:54 AM

Ever as it always is: The heart of a writer and the soul of a poet. Thank you Fred... always

Posted by: Anne at March 18, 2003 11:57 AM

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